Hidden Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Three) Read online

  “Here you are, Scott.” Giving me the book I’d asked for, Eric smiled tightly, glancing through the door, toward the sound of his twin brother’s voice.

  “The restaurant is busy today,” I noted, returning his uncomfortable grin. “That’s good.”

  “It’s picking up with all the summer tourists coming through, yeah.”

  Inhaling, I savored the smell of baking pepperoni and crust, catching a hint of the hot, yellow peppers in the air as well. It always smelled delicious to me in here, like the parlor my own father had taken me to when I was a boy. It was familiar—safe, even. Just like that tiny shop in my childhood, things got a little more crowded when summer rolled around here, what with people wanting to come relax, spend time at the beach, and maybe ask some questions about the mysterious Oak Isle. Something felt different this year, though, and I had a sinking feeling that I knew just what it was.

  Eric Ray, and his brother Kevin, had been part of The Oak Isle Treasure Trove Company for a few years, taking a direct part in the efforts out on the island eagerly. Their parents even bought stock in the company. When Samantha came to stay with Michael, we’d moved our weekly meetings to the back room of the Ray’s restaurant, where they continued to occur to this day. However, change had been in the air since the day Michael died, and it seemed that everything was about to come crashing down around my head.

  “Sorry that took so long,” Kevin said as he appeared in the doorway, flour in his short, brown hair. “There’s a huge family here for a reunion or something and they’ve ordered ten pizzas! Could you come help me get them put together really quick, Er?”

  “No problem.” Pushing away from the table, Eric grabbed a white apron off the hook by the door and pulled it over his green shirt, hiding the eatery’s logo on his chest.

  “I apologize for coming during business hours today, boys. I have the closing shift at the bank today.”

  “It’s no prob, Scott!” Kevin replied as they both disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. “We’re happy to help. The team is family, too.”

  Guilt pricked at me as I sat down, Kevin’s words ringing in my head. I’d decided once more to keep the news of Mark’s disappearance from them, even if it was just for one more night. I would be working the closing shift, but the reason I couldn’t spend time with them later was because I had scheduled a phone call with the professor in Arizona. The university secretary had given me his office number and hours, stating that video calls were his normal route of communication over long distances. It was my hope that our “face to face” conversation would bring to light Mark’s whereabouts, as well as news about the vase I’d sent, and I wouldn’t have to tell the twins another member of their family had disappeared without a trace.

  Sighing, I put all the issues I needed answers for out of my mind and returned to the letter, opening the notebook I’d asked for and picking up a pen. I didn’t know how many times I’d read this particular clue, but it still felt like I was missing something, as if there were a hidden message somewhere in the letters that would instantly lead me to where I needed to be.

  The clock on the wall seemed to tick loudly as I perused my notes, sounds of laughter reaching my ears from the kitchen and dining room. The air felt hot from the heat of the ovens, the smell of mushrooms now joining the pepperoni. As I stared at the words on the page before me, I felt everything around me slip away, though, my mind taking the place of the young man whose words I now studied:

  An impression in the ground first alerted us to the Pit’s existence, the letter read. Beside it was a tree, with a long branch hanging over the indentation. Some old rope had remained in the canopy—it appeared whoever had dug here had used the oak to help hoist earth away. Naturally, we returned home to retrieve shovels and pails of our own, but it quickly became clear that we had stumbled onto something much more complex than a regular hole in the ground. Whatever was hidden here—they didn’t want anyone to get to it.

  The young man continued, explaining the first effort to get to the bottom of the Treasure Pit. I already knew that they would give up after a year and digging to fifty feet. The group that came after them would only make it to ninety, where they would trigger the flood trap that would keep every company until ours from getting to the bottom of the mystery. Two hundred plus years of searching and this boy with a shovel had been the start of it all.

  Well, he had been the start of the search part, anyway. It was anyone’s guess what was at the bottom of the Pit and who had put it there. Personally, I had spent many years believing that it had to be riches from South America, hidden by Spanish conquistadors who were worried about pirates overcoming them on their journey home. It seemed the most logical to me; who else would be so concerned about their resources that they would hide them away with such care and secrecy? Buccaneers wouldn’t have put in so much effort, and Michael’s idea that it was the lost haul of the Knights Templar felt downright laughable.

  However, the vase that was found in Samantha’s bag had looked distinctly Greek to me, which didn’t fit in with my concept at all. In fact, it didn’t really seem to measure up with any of the theories—except for Michael’s, by a long stretch. The Knights Templar could have had Greek objects in their vaults, but their treasure was a myth itself. No, it was best to stick to things that could be surely laced together, not just a bunch of guesses tied into one scheme that sort of panned out. Michael had done loads of research and made a convincing argument, but I had never been sold on the knights of old.

  “Any luck with the letter, Scott?”

  Turning, I saw Kevin leaning against the doorframe, wiping his hands off with a clean, wet rag. He was smiling, but I could still see the hint of his underlying emotions on his face. It was a gift I’d always had; reading people was easy once you discovered what it was that basically kept them going. The twins were driven forward by a desire for growth and adventure, as most young people were. Unfortunately, the Treasure Pit was no longer fulfilling either need in them now.

  “It says the same things it always has, if that’s what you mean.” Laughing slightly, I put the correspondence away and leaned back in the metal, folding chair, readying myself for what was about to come.

  “I hear you on that,” Kevin replied, chuckling as well. “Everything has to be difficult on the island, doesn’t it?”

  He was trying to lead up to it, maybe even waiting for Eric to come and help him some. They weren’t afraid of me, or what my reaction would be to their news, but I could clearly see that they both felt bad. It was no matter to me, though. At this point, all I wanted to do was reassure them in their choices.

  “So.” Sighing, I regarded him, smiling tightly. “When will you boys be bowing out, fully? Is today the day?”

  Surprised, he opened his mouth to reply, then shut it, shaking his head as he laughed again. “How do you do that? How do you always know what someone is going to say?”

  “I don’t,” I replied easily. “But I’ve spent enough time on Oak Isle to recognize the look of someone who’s ready to throw in the towel.”

  “I’m sorry, Scott.” His voice was true and sincere, his eyes almost pleading as he pushed away from the doorway and joined me at the table. Sitting in the chair across from me, he sighed, a defeated sound, and stared down at the notes spread in front of him.

  “We’ve worked so hard,” he started, his tone broken up. “I thought for sure that we would figure it all out. When we lost Michael, Er and I both knew that Sam needed us to stay on and help. It wasn’t even a question of if we would do it or not. When she . . . died . . . it felt like everything we had done was coming full circle, you know? Like all the good stuff we’d accomplished was being balanced out with horrible things. Then Mark left, and we felt like you needed us to stick around, but—”

  “It’s time for you to step away, now.” Nodding, I grinned reassuringly. I’d been expecting this for some weeks, whether the boys realized it or not. “I understand, Kevin. You’re young, wit
h a whole life ahead of you. No one expects you to stay here and search for a prize that might not even exist.”

  “We were so close, though!” Frustration shot through him and he tapped his fingers on the table quickly, frowning. “It feels like everything is just one more step away. If we kept going, if we did one more thing, it would all open up and make sense at last.”

  “But now it feels like we’ll always be one more step away, no matter how many things we do.” Eric’s soft voice drew our attention to the doorway, his form standing in the space with folded arms and an apologetic expression.

  “You two have done so much for the company and myself,” I offered, feeling a little weight lift off my chest as I did my best to show them I accepted their resignations. “But there is a time and place for everything. You still have so much to experience and learn. Life has great things in store for the both of you. What are your plans now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  The direction of the conversation seemed to help ease their feelings and I saw them physically relax at my words. Relief was present in both of their expressions, too, and I felt my own sense of acceptance set in fully.

  “I applied at New York University,” Kevin stated, smiling again. “I start in the fall.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Pride burned in my chest, happiness at his success filling any space I had for disappointment at his departure. “Are you going as well, Eric?”

  “Actually, no.” He laughed, his face flushing some as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to stay here and, uh, inherit the restaurant.”

  “Mom and Dad announced it at dinner last night,” Kevin butted in, grinning like a fool.

  “I figure, I could do worse. What man doesn’t want his very own business to run? Maybe I’ll find a wife to go with it in the future, too.” Eric shrugged, chuckling once, his face still bright red.

  “Congratulations! Really, that’s wonderful news, for the both of you!” Rising from my seat, I crossed the space and gave him a hug, feeling elated for both. Breaking away, I moved so I could see them, grinning like a fool. “Look at you two . . . all grown up and leaving the nest. I couldn’t be happier for either of you.”

  “You’re not upset then?” Kevin asked, unsure.

  “Why would I be upset? You’re both young and ready to get on with your lives. I say that’s exactly what you should be doing now.”

  “But what about you?” Eric frowned as he watched me, concern washing over his features. “Will you keep trying to get out on the island?”

  “Yes.” There was no mistaking the surety in my voice. “But I’ll be just fine on my own. You forget, I’ve been doing this much longer than anyone else on the team.”

  At the mention of our friends, the mood in the room deflated some, the memory of the departed hanging over us like a cloud.

  “I hope Mark is doing good,” Eric suddenly said, turning away as his feelings got the better of him. “We haven’t heard anything about him since he left.”

  Guilt shot through me again, but I held firm to my earlier decision to not say anything. They didn’t need to hear that another one of our group might have been taken from us. We all knew it wasn’t like Mark to disappear without saying anything. The news would only bring them down further, when they should be celebrating their recent successes.

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” The statement felt more like a reassurance to myself than to them. Anxious, I looked at my wristwatch, wishing it was already time for my meeting. If the professor could tell me anything about Mark’s whereabouts, I would let the twins know how he was doing tomorrow.

  Our combined grief at the loss of our departed friends hung in the air for a moment, before I finally sighed and turned to the table. “Would you mind helping me pack up all these notes, then? I have space at my house to keep them. You don’t need to have all this stuff here, anyway.”

  “Are you sure? It feels like we’re kicking you out, Scott.” Eric frowned as he stared back at the space that had been our center of command for the past while. His gaze traveled over the stacks of papers, memories that I could easily recall myself traveling across his face. This was the space our little treasure family had met. This was where we found out the coin from the swamp was genuine. This was where Michael had told our rival, Duke McCreary, exactly where he stood in the scheme of things on the island. Sam had helped make pizzas here. Mark had sat in the corner chair, snacking on things, more times than I could count. There were many late nights, several good conversations, and the feeling of friendships that stood the test of time residing in this room.

  “I’m sure,” I stated softly. “It’s time.”

  There was a pause as we all absorbed that, a collective sigh seeming to hang in the air, and then the moment broke.

  “Of course.” Kevin reached out and pulled a pile toward himself, organizing it into a nice stack and looking around for an empty box to put them in.

  “Thank you.” Joining him at the table, I began going through the items and sorting them a little better.

  I’m truly all alone now, I thought, surprised that I could be so happy for my friends and still so sad to see them all go.

  “You’re the second person to have called me about Mark Bell today,” Professor Stevens stated, his nose twitching as he stared at me through his computer screen. “The first video call, but still. I told your friend, Joe, that I haven’t heard from him in about a month or so.”

  He looked like an overstuffed teddy bear, with reading glasses perched on top of his nose like an old spinster, though he couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. The camera angle made him look like he had ten chins and shot straight up his nostrils, his hairline practically vanishing at the top of his head, but he didn’t seem to care. All around Stevens, papers and photographs crowded the shot, marking his as the type of person who can exist in chaotic control. Under different circumstances, I would have loved to examine the photos of what appeared to be Egyptian archeological sites and pick his brain about his work, but there was something about him that made me feel like my call wasn’t a welcome one.

  “I apologize. I didn’t realize Joe was calling today, as well. We are more plain acquaintances than friends, and I haven’t spoken with him in a few days. However, once he alerted me to Mark’s disappearance, I felt I should look around for him myself. Naturally, I called you.”

  Smiling in the friendliest manner I could muster, I folded my hands together, watching the screen with interest. Stevens face seemed to darken and then lighten all at once, as if he had been getting angry and then decided to be happy instead.

  “Ah. Scott Williams, you said? That would make you Mark’s friend with the vase. From the supposed Treasure Pit, yes?” There was a flicker of something across his face that was off putting, but I agreed all the same.

  “It was my understanding that you were going to meet with him to examine the piece? Did that ever occur, or did he simply not show up?”

  “We had dinner at the Compass Arizona Grill in Phoenix. I’d just finished a convention and he caught me before I headed home to Tucson.” He paused, clearing his throat, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “He had the vase with him. It’s quite the remarkable specimen. A beauty to behold, actually.”

  “So, you have it, then?” I pressed, anxious for the answer. At least that would be one part of the mystery solved.

  “No.”

  The answer was sharp and short, almost a scolding, surprising me into silence. Stevens’s tone was somewhat defensive as he shook his head, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his gray sweater vest.

  “Mark was staying at a hotel down the street and was going to drop it off with me the next morning, so I could study it some more here, at the University. He was a no show, though. I thought he’d decided to take it somewhere else.”

  “You didn’t get to look at it at all?” I asked, baffled. Why would Mark go all the way to Arizona, just to stand up his friend and run
off with the vase?

  “Only at the restaurant. It’s a shame, really. I think he could have had something.”

  Thinking quickly, I tried to come up with some reason for Mark to disappear with the vase and not contact anyone for over a month. Nothing came up.

  “That was the last time I saw Mark,” Stevens continued, fiddling with the ring on his finger. “Haven’t spoken with him since, either.”

  Staring blankly into the camera, I continued to rack my brain for whatever reasons Mark would have had for running off. Soon, I found myself staring at the gold band Stevens continued to spin around, a cross etched into the metal with a black dot at its center. Shaking my head, I refocused, deciding on my next steps.

  “What hotel was he staying at?” I finally asked. “Do you know? Perhaps someone there can tell me when he left and if he said where he was going.”

  “You a part time detective now? What about your Treasure Pit?” Stevens raised an eyebrow, giving off the impression that he didn’t think an old man such as myself should be going around, asking questions and sticking my nose in other people’s business.

  It was a strange vibe to get from him. He had attended school with Mark, after all. Shouldn’t he be worried about what happened to his academic friend, even if they were only casual in their relationship? I knew it would worry me if someone I knew was missing—I was worried. This was Mark we were talking about, our mutual friend, and, as far as I was concerned, part of my family. Stevens, on the other hand, only seemed to be upset that he hadn’t gotten the chance to examine the vase, though, not alarmed that a man he knew was missing, possibly hurt and in need of assistance.

  “I am capable of thinking about things other than treasure,” I replied rather sharply, frowning. “One of my closest friends is missing, and not long after the death of another close friend and his daughter. I am sorry that you didn’t get to look at the vase in depth, but I think we can both agree that a missing man is more important than a missing jar.”